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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.IEZSCopyright No. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



o 


THE 


FATAL DIAMONDS. 



ELEANOR C. DONNELLY, 

•» 

Author of Petr onilla''’ '■'■Our Birthday Bouquet^'* 
etc. 


•A? 


NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO : 

BEN:ZIGKR BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 

1897 




\ 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

Petronilla, and Other Stories. lamo, 
$ 1 . 00 . 

Little Compliments of the Season. 
Verses for Namedays, Birthdays, etc. 
i2mo, net^ 50 cents. 

Our Birthday Bouquet. i 6 mo, $1.00. 


Copyright, 1897, by Benziger Brothers. 


THE FATAL DIAMONDS. 


I. 

It had just gone ten o’clock, that 
cold December morning, up at Wylde • 
wood. 

The tall, old-fashioned timepiece 
on the great staircase at Dr. Ken- 
rick’s was yet vibrating drowsily the 
last stroke, when the door of Mrs. 
Kenrick’s dressing-room opened, and 
somebody came in. 

It was only Floy, Mrs. Kenrick’s 
quadroon maid, her lithe little figure 
set off by the gay chintz dress and 
white ruffled apron, and a French cap 


6 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


of tulle and red ribbons stuck jaunti- 
ly upon her dark braids. 

The room was very bright, with its 
rich furniture, the ruddy fire in the 
low-down grate, and the winter sun- 
shine streaming in through curtains 
of crimson silk, giving a rosy glow to 
everything around ; but, for all it 
was so warm and pleasant, the apart- 
ment was silent and tenantless. 

A casket of diamonds lay open 
upon the dressing-table, amid an ele- 
gant chaos of perfume bottles, ivory 
brushes, and other toilet trifies ; and 
a long ray of sunlight had struck in 
upon the jewels and made a rainbow 
of glory upon the polished ceiling 
above. Over an empty couch was 
filing a dinner-dress of white silk, and 
a pair of embroidered slippers lay by 
the footstool, as if the young mistress 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


7 


of all this silent splendor had just 
cast them from her little feet. 

The pert quadroon gave a quick 
glance around the apartment. Then 
she thrust her hands into the pockets 
of her white ax)ron, and came and 
stood by the dressing-table. 

She was well accustomed to most 
of the fine things scattered about, here 
and there, in such lavish profusion ; 
but the diamonds were something 
new. 

And rare beauties they were ; a 
necklace, earrings, and bracelets of 
the purest water, and worth, Floy 
thought, a mint of money. 

She knew they were Dr. Kenrick’s 
birthday (as well as Christmas) gift 
to his young wife ; that they had 
been sent home only an hour ago, and 
that Mrs. Kenrick was to wear them, 


8 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


that Christmas Eve, for the first time, 
at a dinner-party to be given in her 
honor miles and miles away. Olney 
was the name of the place, and Floy 
knew also that it was Mrs. Kenrick’s 
native town, whence the doctor had 
brought her a bride six months be- 
fore ; and although it was whispered 
that she was not to the manor born — 
“ a penniless lass” in fact, without 
“ a lang pedigree” — a very haughty, 
supercilious bride she had proved to 
be, as Floy knew to her cost. 

It was just like her careless way to 
go out of her room and leave all those 
precious things open upon the table. 

While the little maid stood think- 
ing this and feasting her eyes upon 
the jewels, there came a rap at the 
door which communicated with a pri- 
vate staircase. To open it was to ad- 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


9 


Tnit a waiter with a basket of cnt 
flowers in his hands, an exquisite 
thing, which filled the room with the 
mingled odors of roses and heliotrope, 
geranium and japonicas. 

The young maid had a tropical 
thirst for flowers. She took them 
from the man, turned them about in 
her hand, her eyes sparkling through 
their jetty lashes, as she thrust her 
little nose among the leaves, and in- 
haled their perfume. 

But the waiter was differently oc- 
cupied. 

He was a mulatto, tall and well 
made, but with a beardless, treacher- 
ous face. 

Instead of departing as soon as his 
errand was done, he lingered near the 
girl, and, unobserved by her, was 
watching silently and hungrily the 


10 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


jewels exposed upon the dressing- 
table. His small black eyes glistened 
like a ferret’s, his lips and fingers 
trembled with an odd, convulsive mo- 
tion. He was even prepared to draw 
closer to the casket ; but just then 
an angry voice was heard in the dis- 
tance, and the man disappeared 
through the door by which he had 
entered, just as a bell rang sharply 
across an opposite passage. 

Down went the basket of flowers 
on the table, and off darted Floy with 
the casket of diamonds. 

Across the corridor she ran in hot 
haste, and lifting a heavy velvet cur- 
tain from an open door, she entered a 
spacious sitting-room, furnished with 
a simplicity which was almost severe. 

A large ivory crucifix hung above 
the oaken mantel-shelf, and a marble 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


11 


statuette of the Madonna was on a 
bracket in a bow- window, where 
some choice flowers were growing in 
pots and a canary was singing in its 
gilt cage. 

In front of the open fire sat a noble- 
faced old lady in a quaint, old-time 
gown of dove-colored merino, and a 
cap of clear muslin upon her snowy 
hair. 

This was Mrs. Ursula Kenrick, the 
doctor’s gentle old mother. 

Her sweet brown eyes were fixed 
with a troubled gaze upon a tall, ele- 
gant young creature who stood near 
her on the hearth-rug, attired in the 
extreme of fashion. A singularly 
beautiful girl, with a profusion of 
yellow hair and a brilliant complex- 
ion ; but just now her cheeks were 
flushed more than was becoming. 


12 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


there was an angry light in her blue 
eyes, and a sullen pout upon her deli- 
cate lips. 

This was Mrs. Margery Kenrick, 
the doctor’s wilful young wife. 

She was twirling a slip of paper im- 
patiently in her long, taper fingers. 
It was a telegram, and contained 
these words : 

‘‘ The case is such a critical one, I 
shall not be able to return until to- 
morrow. Am grieved to disappoint 
Margery this evening, but hope to 
keep the Christmas with her at home. 

‘‘ Lewis Kenrick.” 

An old patient, a merchant of high 
standing, was very ill in the adjoin- 
ing town of Elton, and Dr. Kenrick 
had been summoned to his bedside 
the night before. At noon he was 
expected back to accompany his wife 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


13 


to the dinner-x^arty, miles away at 
Olney ; and here, at ten o’clock, had 
come this telegram instead, and Mar- 
gery Kenrick was vexed beyond all 
reason. 

She had been such a spoiled and 
petted darling ever since her mar- 
riage, that she had come to chafe 
against the least crossing of her nat- 
urally strong will, and rebelled pas- 
sionately against this first real obsta- 
cle to the course of her gay pleasures. 

To be cheated out of her birthday 
party, to be robbed of the golden 
opportunity of displaying her new 
jewels and all the rest of her festive 
finery to her dear five hundred friends 
at Olney (which she had not visited 
since she quitted it a bride), all be- 
cause some stupid old Eltonian saw 
fit to consider himself dangerously 


14 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


ill, and detain Lewis at liis bedside — 
it was insufferable, and could not be 
bbrne. Nay, it should not be borne. 

The wilful beauty beat the point of 
her dainty slipper upon the rug, and 
formed in her heart a desperate re- 
solve. 

“These are the diamonds,” she 
said ungraciously, as she motioned 
Floy to place the open casket in the 
elder lady’s hands. 

The grave old eyes were graver still 
as they gazed down almost sadly 
upon the sparkling gems. 

“ They are very beautiful,” she 
said gently, “ very beautiful, indeed ; 
and Lewis will be sorry enough, dear 
boy, when he knows that you have 
been disappointed in the first wearing 
of them this evening, Margery.” 

A disagreeable expression i)assed 


The Fatal Diamonds » 


15 


over the young wife’s face. She 
took the casket almost rudely from 
the old lady’s hands, and closed the 
lid on the jewels with a vicious 
snap. 

‘‘ I do not intend to be disappoint- 
ed,” she answered shortly ; adding 
to the maid : Floy, you may go 
now, and put my dinner-dress and 
laces, with the rest of the things, into 
the small trunk ; and don’t forget my 
gloves and fan ; and see that the car- 
riage is ready to take me to the rail- 
way station after luncheon.” 

As the curtain dropped upon the 
quadroon the old lady said plead- 
ingly : 

‘‘ Margery, dear daughter, you 
surely do not mean it ? You will not 
go to Olney without your husband 
Why not ?” was the shaip reply. 


16 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


Why should I stay at home and 
mope ? It is my birthday, and this 
dinner is to be given in honor of the 
day by those who truly love me. If 
Lewis cares so little for me and my 
friends as to sacrifice both to the 
whims' of some whining old hypo- 
chondriac ” 

‘‘Margery! Margery!” remon- 
strated the mother, “ do not be un- 
just to our dear one. You well know 
how tenderly, how devotedly he loves 
you. Nothing but the call of sacred 
duty could ever keep him from your 
side.” 

The soft old eyes were moist with 
tears. 

“ To purchase for you these''' and 
she laid her hand upon the jewels, 
“ he sacrificed the darling hope and 
l)lan of years — that of building a new 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


17 


wing to the old Charity Hospital at 
Elton.’’ 

A sndden chill struck through the 
hot blood of the excited girl who lis- 
tened. She shuddered visibly and 
became very pale. Was it a premo- 
nition of coming evil ? For the mo- 
ment it seemed to her as if the casket 
she held in her cold fingers was filled, 
not with diamonds, but with the 
crystallized tears of the myriad poor 
whom the gratification of her inordi- 
nate vanity had deprived of succor 
and shelter in their hour of bitter 
need and suffering. 

‘‘Dear child,” said the old lady, 
seeing, but somewhat misunderstand- 
ing, her daughter-in-law’s sudden 
emotion, “ when you came to me a 
while ago I had just finished reading 
those sweet words of the solemn, wise 


18 


The Fatal Diamonds* 


epistle to Christian wives, ‘ whose 
adorning, ’ it says, ‘ let it not be the 
outward plaiting of the hair, or the 
^rearing of gold, or the putting on of 
apparel ; but the hidden man of the 
heart in the incorruptibility of a quiet 
and a meek spirit, which is rich in 
the sight of God. For,’ it adds, 
‘ after this manner heretofore also the 
holy women, hoping in God, adorned 
themselves, being subject to their 
own husbands.’ ” 

The blood mounted hotly to the 
young wife’s temples. 

Those words, being subject to 
their own husbands,” chafed her in- 
dependent spirit ; and the glance she 
gave Mrs. Ursula was so fierce and 
defiant, that the latter murmured 
soothingly : 

‘‘ But we will say no more, dear 


Tlie Fatal Diamonds. 


19 


Margery. God knows I have no wish 
to curb or control your actions, with- 
out an eye to your true happiness. 
But, I am sure, when you think bet- 
ter of it, you wiD not go alone to 
Olney, to-day.” 

Mrs. Margery Kenrick made answer 
quickly, in a raised key, and in a 
voice shrill with passion : 

No matter what the consequences 
may 5^, I am determined to go, 
alone, to Olney this afternoon !” 

And, turning, she quitted the apart- 
ment with angry abruptness. In 
doing so she ran against some one 
standing in the corridor just outside 
the hanging curtain — some one who 
had been pressing his ear to a slit in 
the drapery and listening eagerly to 
the dialogue just finished. 

It was Arnold, the mulatto waiter. 


20 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


“ What are you doing here, sir 
she questioned haughtily. ‘‘I dis- 
missed you some hours ago.” 

The man looked at her with a very 
ugly expression on his olive face. 

She had, indeed, discharged him 
from service that morning for some 
trifling offence ; and he hated her 
most cordially for it. 

And not for that alone. 

His wife. Daphne, had been lady’s 
maid for years to Mrs. Ursula Ken- 
rick, and had recently lost her place 
through the arbitrary interference of 
this new queen of the household. So 
exacting and overbearing were her 
ways, to be sure, that the servants 
all fretted under her rule, and won- 
dered among themselves how the 
grave, gentle Dr. Kenrick (so like his 
dear, placid old mother) could ever 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


21 


have mated with such a haughty, 
hot-headed bride. 

Arnold, the waiter, was secretly a 
man of violent passions — a dangerous 
man, in fact, whose past (it was whis- 
pered among his fellow-servants) had 
been stained by many a dark and 
desperate deed. 

He and his wife had been the spe- 
cial victims of their young mistress’ 
bad temper and spleen ; and after 
Daphne had been driven from her 
place Mrs. Margery had persistently 
refused to grant her the character” 
necessary to secure her another situa- 
tion. 

And now Daphne’s husband was 
literally thirsting for revenge. 

I came, madam,” he replied, ‘‘ to 
see if you wished me to remain until 
after luncheon was served,” his fer- 


22 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


ret eyes scanning her, as he spoke, 
through their half-closed lids. 

I wish you to leave the house at 
once,” was the scornful retort. 

It shall be as you say, madam 
and the man, whose manner and 
speech had a certain indescribable 
elegance and polish, made her a bow 
worthy of a courtier to his queen. 
But he went away down the passage 
with that ugly expression on his face, 
muttering to himself : ‘‘It shall be, 
indeed, as you say, young madam ; 
but you shall pay dear for it all, my 
lady, in the hour of reckoning !” 
And then, stealthily and unobserved, 
he slipped into one of his master’s 
private rooms at the other end of the 
corridor, and being assured that the 
apartment was tenantless, he noise- 
lessly turned the key upon himself. 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


23 


From an antique wardrobe in the 
corner he proceeded at once to take 
a complete suit of Dr. Kenrick’s best 
clothing and linen, extracted some of 
the doctor’s gloves and handker- 
chiefs, as well as some of his cards 
from a drawer at hand, and adding a 
velvet travelling- cap and handsome 
cloth ulster, which had just been 
sent home, tied the whole rapidly 
into a neat bundle. 

That done, he drew from his pocket 
a false beard, glossy and flowing, 
which, pausing before the cheval- 
glass, he appended for a few moments 
to his chin, and laughed quietly to 
himself, noting the effect and the 
complete change it made in his face. 

When he had replaced the artificial 
hair in his pocket he carried his bun- 
dle to a window which looked upon a 


24 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


thick belt of evergreens in a secluded 
part of the grounds. 

This he opened softly, and with a 
low whistle and a whispered, ‘‘ Hist, 
Daphne ! ” he dropped the bundle 
upon the grass below. He waited 
until a dark-faced woman crept out 
of the shadow of the firs, and, with 
an upward glance and a nod, con- 
cealed the bundle under her shawl. 
And when she had disappeared in the 
shrubbery he closed the window, un- 
locked the door of the room, and 
w^ent away as noiselessly as he had 
entered. 

Meanwhile, his young mistress had 
passed into her dressing-room very 
much out of sorts, and found Floy 
cuddled up in a little heap on the 
floor before the fire, rocking to and fro, 
and bemoaning herself most pitifully. 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


25 


The girl had giv^en her ankle a 
sudden twist and sprained it bad- 

ly- 

Mrs. Kenrick sank into an easy- 
chair, disgusted and despairing. 

She had reckoned, at least, on tak- 
ing her maid with her on this ill- 
starred journey to Olney, and here 
was the wretched little creature un- 
able to put her foot under her, or 
even to help with the necessary prep- 
arations for the journey. Everything 
seemed to be going wrong. 

Margery Kenrick looked into the 
blazing fire in the open grate, and 
her eyes glowed like the hot coals. 
If she had looked as long and as well 
into the fiery recesses of her own un- 
bridled passions, they would have 
been dimmed and drenched with tears 
of contrite repentance, for she would 


26 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


have seen in that interior scrutiny 
that all her annoyances sprung from 
her inordinate pride and vanity, from 
the wilful neglect of her religious and 
social duties. 

It was the vigil of Christmas, a sol- 
emn fast of the Church, and she was 
bent on a headstrong attendance at a 
grand festive dinner. 

Her gentle husband had said to her 
when the cards first came from 01- 
ney : ‘‘ Would it not be better, love, 
to keep at home with mother this 
i first Christmas of our wedded lives % 
Think how sweet it would be to ap- 
proach together the holy communion 
in our own little Wyldewood chapel 

With the recollection of these 
words, the recollection of some others 
and more recent ones fiashed sud- 
denly upon her. 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


27 


The telegram was still crumpled in 
the grasp of her slender hand. 

She straightened the slip of paper 
out upon her knee, and read the mes- 
sage over once more : 

“ The case is such a critical one, I 
shall not be able to return until to- 
morrow. Am grieved to disappoint 
Margery this evening, but hope to 
keep the Christmas with her at 
home.” 

‘ Hope to keep the Christmas with 
her at home^ She repeated the 
last words to herself with bitter em- 
phasis. 

‘^It is all a preconcerted thing,’’ 
she murmured angrily ; “ he did not 
want to go to Olney from the first, 
and now he has trumped up this shal- 
low excuse to have his own way and 
keep me at home !” 


28 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


Her mind was made up. 

The great clock on the staircase 
was chiming the hour of noon. Floy 
had managed to cripple off to her 
own apartment. 

Mrs. Kenrick rang the bell and 
ordered the chambermaid, who ap- 
peared at the summons, to complete 
the packing of her trunk, and serve 
her with lunch in an adjoining room. 

An hour later, attired in her costly 
sealskins, the diamonds flashing in 
her delicate ears, the young wife lift- 
ed the curtain at Mrs. Ursula’s door 
to say adieu. 

The old lady was like an antique 
picture, beautiful and touching to 
behold. 

She was in her high-backed chair, 
her head resting against its cushions, 
and her eyes closed in a gentle sleep ; 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


29 


but a tear trembled upon her soft 
old cheek, and the hand upon her 
knee still grasped her rosary of pearl. 
Sleep had surprised her in the midst 
of her fervent prayers for the wilful 
girl whose unhappy temper had so 
often, since her coming, darkened the 
sunshine of her son’s peaceful home. 

At this vision of meek and vener- 
able holiness something like remorse 
stirred in the bosom of the one for 
whom those loving prayers had been 
offered. 

It was the last pleading murmur of 
the good angel before he spread his 
snowy pinions and fled away into the 
gathering darkness ; but it was re- 
jected on the instant, and Margery 
Kenrick pressed obstinately on to the 
hour and scene of a terrible retribu- 
tion. 


30 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


II. 

She was alone in tlie palace-car en 
route for Olney. 

She had ensconced herself in the 
depths of a luxurious easy-chair, her 
drapery of garnet silk so gracefully 
adjusted as to display the dainty lit- 
tle foot upon the footstool. The dark 
sealskin cap afforded a strong relief 
to the blond braids on which it rest- 
ed, and set off to striking advantage 
the clear rose and white of a peerless 
complexion. 

Her blue eyes rested complacently 
upon an exquisite little satchel of 
painted satin which lay in her lap, its 
slender gold chain wrapped carelessly 
around her gloved wrist. 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


31 


Save and except the diamonds in 
her ears, the rest of her precious bril- 
liants had found a hiding-place in 
that little satin bag. 

It was not in her nature to be over- 
careful about anything ; but these 
were certainly rare jewels ; and, as 
she had said to her mother-in-law 
that morning, they would be safer in 
the hand than they could possibly be 
in a trunk. Trunks might be lost or 
mislaid or robbed, but nothing could 
happen to her., she thought, strong 
and defiant in the inexperience of her 
reckless and beautiful youth. 

She gave the chain another twist 
around her hand ; and, remembering 
that it was yet a good three hours’ 
ride to Olney, she bought a book (a 
trifling tale) from the newsboy, and, 
settling herself more comfortably 


32 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


among her cushions, began to turn 
the pages of the translated French 
novel. 

Thus occupied, taking in, without 
a scruple, the poisonous imagery, the 
false and seductive sophisms of the 
romance before her, the last vestige 
of her uncomfortable self-reproach 
melted away. 

In short, so blinded was the selfish 
beauty to her own pride and bad 
temper, so keenly alive to the sense 
' of her fancied wrongs, that she even 
began to regard herself in the light 
of a much-abused individual, who, 
by the laws of compensation, was en- 
titled, after all that she had under- 
gone, to the lion’s share of enjoy- 
ment in the delights of the approach- 
ing festivities. 

The most charming visions began 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


33 


to float between her eyes and the 
printed follies of the page they were 
perusing. In the invisible mirror 
which the spirit of V anity held tow- 
ards her, she seemed to see herself ar- 
rayed in the white silk dinner -dress 
(now lying safely at the bottom of 
her trunk), with its elaborate garni- 
ture of seed-pearls and rich old 
creamy lace ; the precious diamonds 
sparkling like dew-drops on her 
throat and arms ; and their envied 
wearer entrancing the fashionable as- 
sembly with the corresponding bril- 
liancy of \\Qrjeux esprit and after- 
dinner coruscations. 

So absorbed was the prospective 
belle of Olney in the false illusions 
of her French novel, and still falser 
illusions of her own ambitious fancy, 
that she did not notice the two gen- 


34 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


tlemen who sat just behind her in the 
luxurious car, and who were watch- 
ing her ev^ery movement with some- 
thing livelier than the casual curios- 
ity of mere fellow-travellers. 

Of the personal appearance of one 
of these curious gentlemen it does 
not concern us to say more than that 
he was a plain, slender person of un^ 
certain age ; of a nervous, awkward 
manner ; and, despite his dark skin 
and fiercely twisted mustache, of a 
decidedly effeminate face. 

His companion, on the contrary, 
was a tall, elegant man in the prime 
of life, with a full, fiowing, glossy 
beard, which, like his hair and lashes, 
was of a purple black. He wore a 
handsome cloth ulster and a dark 
velvet travelling-cap, and was fault- 
lessly gloved and shod. 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


35 


His small, penetrating black eyes, 
it is true, had a quick, restless mo- 
tion, right and left, which was calcu- 
lated to produce an unpleasant im- 
pression of distrust ; but he and his 
friend were possibly Spaniards, both 
being of markedly olive complexion. 

They had entered the palace-car 
just after Mrs. Lewis Kenrick had 
ensconced herself in that inviting 
easy* chair wherein she was now por- 
ing over her novel, and they had evi- 
dently chosen their seats with a view 
to her close proximity. 

The handsome man with the beard 
had expressed his whispered satisfac- 
tion to his homely companion as they 
divested themselves of their wraps 
and dropped into their chairs, and 
after settling a large valise at his 
feet, he had straightway devoted 


36 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


himself to watching closely, over the 
top of a newspaper, the movements 
of the unconscious girl before him. 
In truth, the singular eagerness of 
his gaze whenever Mrs. Kenrick’s 
face turned towards the car-window, 
surveying for the moment the wintry 
landscape outside, and giving him, at 
the same time, a clear view of her 
fair, regular profile, the sort of hun- 
gry, fierce satisfaction which seemed 
to leap out of his small, restless eyes 
had something quite repulsive in its 
disagreeable intensity. 

It was Christmas eve, and the 
weather very cold and beginning to 
threaten snow. Besides Mrs. Ken- 
rick and the two men, there were no 
other passengers in the compartment 
except an aristocratic-looking old 
gentleman who was seated in their 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


37 


rear, and who had just awakened 
from a delicious nap over the London 
Times to inform the conductor that 
he was an English traveller who was 
making, for the first time, the grand 
tour of Northern America. 

The remark was overheard by the 
more vigilant and more elegant of 
the two Dons in front, and, simple 
as it was, it seemed to afford him a 
singular pleasure. He smiled and 
stroked his long, silky beard, and 
whispered approvingly to the com- 
panion beside him. 

The smile, however, had vanished 
the next instant, and a little dumb 
show took place between the dark 
gentleman and the conductor. 

The former had passed the latter 
his companion’s ticket, and then he 
tendered him tioo other tickets, indi« 


38 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


eating by a silent gesture that one 
was his own, and the other that of 
the lady who sat before him. 

The pantomime was concluded by 
a nod towards the unconscious Mar- 
gery, a melancholy shake of the trav- 
eller’s head, and a significant tapping 
of his finger upon his dark forehead. 

The little stir behind her aroused 
Mrs. Kenrick from her book. 

Looking over her shoulder she saw 
the conductor, and suddenly remem- 
bered that she must produce her 
ticket. 

She was not accustomed to travel 
alone. She extracted her dainty lit- 
tle pocketbook from her satchel, and 
searched hurriedly through its con- 
tents. 

The ticket was not there, neither 
was it in the satchel itself. 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


39 


How odd, and how annoying ! She 
had certainly purchased it awhile 
ago at the station window, but with 
a blush at her own carelessness she 
concluded she must have dropped it 
in passing from the ticket-office to 
the car. 

She must buy another. The con- 
ductor had gone past her without 
any comment, but she called him 
back and offered him the money, tell- 
ing him that she had lost her ticket. 

She was surprised to see the official 
turn his eyes from her with an in- 
quiring gaze, and look meaningly at 
some one beyond her. 

It is all right, madam,” he said, 
in a soothing, conciliating way, which 
astounded and angered her ; ‘‘ the 
gentleman there, your friend, has al- 
ready attended to your ticket.” 


40 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


Wliat gentleman ? what friend 
she questioned hotly, in her intense 
and proud astonishment ; and then, 
looking behind her, saw, for the first 
time, the person he indicated. 

This is an outrage !” she cried, 
with her cheeks aflame. “ Conduct- 
or, I do not know this man at all ! 
I am travelling entirely alone.” 

The old English traveller in the cor- 
ner peered through his gold-rimmed 
glasses with an expression of supreme 
disgust at this situation (so unusual 
in a first-class carriage), and frowned 
openly at the usages of American so- 
ciety which permitted so young and 
beautiful a woman to travel “ entirely 
alone.” 

Meanwhile, the dark-bearded gen- 
tleman had draw'n the conductor’s 
ear close to his lips, and whispered, 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


41 


but loud enough to be heard by 
all : 

She is my wife, poor girl ! hope- 
lessly deranged for months past. My 
brother and I are taking her to Lethe 
for special treatment.’’ 

Lethe was a large private asylum 
for the insane, a couple of stations 
ahead. 

For a moment Margery Kenrick 
was mute with rage. 

She had risen to her feet. She be- 
came deadly pale, and the pupils of 
her eyes dilated till those blue orbs 
seemed changed to black. A slight 
froth rose upon her lips. 

It is all right, madam,” reiter- 
ated the conductor, alarmed at her 
looks, and dreading an immediate 
outbreak of the supposed mania. 

“ It is not all right ! ” she screamed, 


42 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


losing at once all control of herself. 

It is all wrong, all false and out- 
rageons ! Conductor, I will have you 
reported for this. I am Mrs. Lewis 
Kenrick ; see !” — and she produced 
one of her cards from her pocketbook 
— and this insolent man is ” 

Dr. Lewis Kenrick, your hus- 
band, poor darling !” said the dark 
gentleman coaxingly, also producing 
a card which bore that name. The 
worst feature of her mania,” he whis- 
pered aside to the official ; ‘‘ very dis- 
tressing !” and he sighed deeply. 

This man is not my husband ; I 
swear it, conductor !” she cried, be- 
ginning to grow wild and bewildered. 
‘‘ My husband is Dr. Lewis Kenrick, 
of Wyldewood, and he is now in El- 
ton visiting a dying patient. That 
was the reason he could not come 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


43 


with me to Olney, for it is to Olney 
I am going, conductor, and not to 
Lethe. If I had not unfortunately 
lost my ticket, you could see for 
yourself.” 

The conductor was puzzled. He 
was a new hand on the road, and 
knew none of the prominent residents 
of the vicinity. The lady was very 
beautiful, and seemed in great dis- 
tress. He appealed to the old Eng- 
lishman in the corner. 

They seem to be vulgar people,’’ 
said the old aristocrat, sniffing the 
air with disdain ; but if that fellow 
is not her husband, why the deuce 
doesn’t she telegraph to the one that 
is^ and get him to identify her ? 
Poh !” 

The train was slowing up to the 
station. 


44 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


“ If you will give me the address 
of the sick person in Elton, madam,” 
said the conductor, coming back to 
the now frightened girl, I will tele- 
graph to inquire if Dr. Kenrick is 
there.” 

‘‘ Yes, yes !” she cried eagerly, 
and then paused in blank consterna- 
tion. 

The Spanish - looking traveller 
rubbed his gloved hands softly to- 
gether, and nodded again significant- 
ly at the official. 

In her excitement she had forgot- 
ten that she did not really know the 
name of her husband’s patient. 

All she did know was the name of 
the Elton hotel where Dr. Kenrick 
was accustomed to stop. 

Would a telegram there reach him 
in time ? 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


45 


She wrung her slender hands in an 
agony of apprehension. 

The train had reached the station. 
The early winter twilight was begin- 
ning to fall as the conductor gave the 
clerk the telegram Margery had dic- 
tated, addressed to the Elton hotel, 
with instructions to forward the an- 
swer at once to Lethe. 

Then, on with a shriek steamed the 
locomotive into the cold, gray shad- 
ows, fitting emblems of the chill dark- 
ness beginning to settle relentlessly 
down upon one wilful woman’s 
troubled heart and life. 

She could no longer sit at her ease 
and dream her vain and selfish 
dreams. A hectic spot burned in 
each of her fair cheeks as she paced 
up and down the narrow passage of 
the car, clenching her hands and bit- 


46 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


ing her fevered lips, till she looked, 
indeed, the mad, restless creature 
she was so cruelly said to be. 

What could all this terrible mys- 
tery be ? Who was this strange ene- 
my who, even now, while affecting 
sleep in his chair, was watching her 
stealthily but closely through his 
half -open lids ? What was his object 
in playing out to its end this bold 
and hazardous game ? 

The conductor had lighted the lamp 
above his head, and she scanned the 
dark face more narrowly. 

Surely she had seen before (and re- 
cently) those small, evil eyes ; that 
expression of vengeful and treacher- 
ous hate ! Another face — was it at 
Wyldewood ?— dark also, and treach- 
erous, but beardless. 

She shuddered, she began to sob 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


47 


passionately as the conviction of her 
own utter helplessness burst upon 
her. Oh, why had she slighted the 
gentle mother’s advice, and started 
alone on this fatal journey ! 

‘‘ No matter what the consequences 
may she had said in her bitter 
anger. And now she would , have 
given every one of the precious jew- 
els in her grasp to be back once more 
in the safe retreat of home, kneel- 
ing at Mrs. Ursula’s feet in the warm, 
bright sitting-room, and listening 
gratefully to one of those grave, ten- 
der homilies she had so often despised 
as tedious and impertinent. 

Like a cool, calm picture in the 
frame of her excited fancy, she saw 
again in spirit the crucifix above the 
mantel-shelf, the Madonna on the 
wall, and the sweet-faced old lady 


48 


The Fatal Diamonds 


asleep by the fire in her high -backed 
chair, the rosary shining in her with- 
ered hand. 

“ Oh, Blessed Mother Mary !” she 
prayed, with an intensity of fervor 
never felt before, ‘‘ comfortress of 
the afflicted, refuge of sinners, hear 
and help your unworthy child !” 

A long, sharp whistle sounded on 
the frosty air. A voice shouted 
‘‘Lethe!” 

The lights of the trim station 
loomed in view. The trees slid past 
the windows like pictured things on 
the slide of a magic lantern. There 
was a rattle, a grinding rumble, a 
jolt, which threw her against a hand 
which grasped and held her like a 
vice, and the train had stopped at 
the dreaded station. 

A faintness began to creep over 


Tlie Fatal Diamonds. 


49 


her. As in a troubled dream, or un- 
der the oppression of a nightmare, 
Margery Kenrick felt that the su- 
preme moment of her life had come. 

She sank into a seat, still in the 
grasp of that iron hand. The con- 
ductor’s voice seemed to come to her 
from some far-off depths as he bent 
over her, saying : 

There is no answer to your tele- 
gram, madam.” 

Then she was conscious that an- 
other face, darker and more evil, full 
of a suppressed and hideous venge- 
fulness, bent close to hers, and hissed 
at her through its clenched teeth a 
terribly significant echo : 

‘‘ No answer to your telegram., 
madam ! ” 

In that brief instant she recognized 
her foe 


50 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


With a ringing shriek, ‘^Arnold, 
Arnold ! I know yon at last ! ” she 
sprang from the chair, tottered blind- 
ly forward, with her hand to her 
head, and fell prone in a dead faint 
at his feet. 

‘‘You see she recognizes me, poor 
dear ! ’ ’ said the dark gentleman 
softly ; “ but she calls me by my 
brother’s name. Arnold” (turning 
to his companion), “ help me sup- 
port our afflicted darling to the car- 
riage. So ! It is better as it is — bet- 
ter as it is. Our sad task is easy 
while she remains insensible. Con- 
ductor, please put off this lady’s 
trunk upon the platform and call 
yonder cab. Gently, gently” (as 
they bore her carefully to the door). 
“ Here is her pretty little satchel. 
Sweet pet ! Slip it safely into the 


llie Fatal Diamonds. 


51 


valise, Arnold. The cold air will 
soon revive her. Thanks, conductor. 
Now we are all right ! ” 

And clasping to his breast the limp, 
inanimate mass of sealskins and gar- 
net silk, with the blond head and the 
beautiful, deathlike face lying like a 
broken lily on his shoulder, the sup- 
posed Dr. Kenrick shut himself and 
his companions into the carriage in 
waiting, and was driven off, bag and 
baggage, down the dark road leading 
to the Lethe Asylum. 


52 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


III. 

The gray dawn of the Christmas 
morning stole into a ground-floor 
chamber of a fine old mansion on 
the outskirts of Elton, wherein had, 
all night long, been fought a silent 
but desperate battle between Life and 
Death. 

Life had conquered, but at such 
terrific odds that the grinning skele- 
ton with the scythe seemed yet to 
linger by the bedside, crying out in 
hollow tones, “ Your triumph is but 
short-lived ! ” as his fleshless finger 
pointed jeeringly at the cadaverous 
face of the victor, lying spepf j\nd 
yrasted among the pillows. 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


53 


The crisis of the disease was past, 
however, and the sick man had sunk 
into a profound and healing slumber. 

With a sigh of relief Dr. Lewis 
Kenrick arose from the chair of a 
sleepless vigil, and, with an assuring 
nod to the nurse, who had just re- 
turned to her post after a brief re- 
jjose, he stepped noiselessly to the 
window and looked out upon the 
wintry town. 

It had snowed heavily in the night, 
but the dawn was clear and promis- 
ing. The Christmas chimes were 
ringing merrily from the belfry of a 
church some blocks away. 

A rosy light was beginning to glow 
in the east, and a large, fair star 
hung tremblingly there, like a dying 
lamp. 

‘‘ Oh, star of Bethlehem ! sweet 


54 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


star of Bethlehem !” murmured the 
doctor softly under his breath ; and 
just then a little child came gayly up 
the street, singing the dear old 
‘‘ Adeste Fideles’’' in a quavering lit- 
tle voice, very tender and touching 
to hear. 

The doctor’s eyes, so like his moth- 
er’s brown and placid eyes, greAv 
moist with unshed tears. 

He was a big, brave, bearded man, 
with auburn hair and a fresh com- 
plexion ; strong, wise, and skilful, 
as became a master in his art, but at 
the same time gentle and pure and 
simple-hearted as a child. 

Looking up now into the cloudless 
expanse above him, with the tender 
prayer of Tennyson’s St. Agnes ^ 

“ Make Thou my spirit pure and clear 
As are these frosty skies/’ 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


55 


he made reverently upon himself the 
sign of the cross, and gave thanks to 
the great Physician for the life He 
had seen fit to give back to the sick 
man, that peaceful hour, through the 
ministry of His grateful servant’s 
hands. 

Then he dropped the curtain and 
came back to the nurse. 

‘‘ I am going now,” he said, in a 
quiet voice. 

How long will this sleep last?” 
questioned the woman, nodding tow- 
ards the white face among the pil- 
lows. 

‘‘Possibly for hours. When he 
wakes give him the drops yonder 
and the beef -tea. All he needs now 
is careful feeding and nursing.” 

The nurse followed him into the 
hall. 


56 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


Don’t you want some breakfast, 
doctor, before you go ?” 

He shook his head. 

‘‘Not even a biscuit or a cup of 
coffee V ’ 

“No, thank you, nurse. It is 
Christmas morning, remember, and I 
shan’ t break my fast for an hour yet, 
if I can help it.” 

The woman was an Irish Catholic. 
She smiled understandingly, and mur- 
mured a blessing on him as he passed 
down the stairs and out into the 
street. 

He walked briskly on, block after 
block, feeling how good it was, after 
his long vigil in a close sick-room, to 
drinli in deep draughts of that pure, 
elastic air and crunch the fresh snow 
under his rapid tread. 

A flood of light and sacred song 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


57 


suddenly poured on him from the 
open door of a church. 

He went in with the silent throng 
of worshippers hastening to one of 
the Aurora Masses. 

'Near the entrance a priest in cas- 
sock and stole sat at a latticed screen 
hearing confessions. 

This was the opportunity Dr. Ken- 
rick had desired. 

Grave and recollected, he knelt at 
once in the line of penitents, rich and 
poor, gentle and simple, reverently 
waiting alike their turn for holy ab- 
solution. 

How warm and bright and peaceful 
was the holly-wreathed house of 
God ! The pungent odor of the 
greens and the ^weet aroma of the 
altar incense mingled gratefully to- 
gether. 


58 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


‘‘ How lovely are Thy tabernacles, 
O Lord of hosts !” thought Dr. Ken- 
rick ; ‘‘ my soul longeth and fainteth 
for the courts of the Lord !” 

And then he fell to wishing most 
fervently that Margery, his young 
wife, were kneeling there at his side, 
sharing the solemn delights of that 
early Christmas morning. 

Possibly, at the same time (he con- 
soled himself with the thought) she 
and the dear old mother were adoring 
the divine Babe of Bethlehem in the 
little chapel at Wyldewood. “ God 
bless and keep them both !” prayed 
the loving, tender heart. 

A half hour passed. The great, 
bearded man knelt with the throng 
of devout communicants at the sacred 
rail, and, with tearful eyes, received 
from the hands of the priest that In- 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


59 


carnate God whose altar shall be unto 
the end of time truly a Bethlehem., 
truly a House of Breads yea, of the 
Bread of Life which cometh down 
each day from heaven ! 

The sun was well up, and the earth 
rejoicing in her Christmas mantle of 
unspotted ermine, when Dr. Kenrick 
came out of the church and made his 
way to the Elton hotel for breakfast. 

He had finished his coffee, and was 
just about drawing towards him one 
of the morning papers, when the 
office clerk approached him. 

‘‘ This came for you last evening,” 
he said, but we did not know where 
to find you and he passed on, 
leaving a telegram in Dr. Kenrick’ s 
hand. 

Walking into the reading-room, the 
doctor tore open the envelope. He 


60 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


read it at first meclianically, not tak- 
ing in all its real meaning. Then, 
with a start and a shudder which 
shook his strong frame from head to 
foot, his eye ran wildly again over 
the mysterious message : 

‘‘ Margery ! my wife — on the road 
to Olney — in danger P ’ fell in broken 
words from his lips. 

He crushed the paper in his ner- 
vous grasp, standing transfixed with 
astonishment and anguish. 

Merciful Heaven ! what could it all - 
mean ? Was some one playing a 
trick on him ? Or had the child 
really persisted in going to Olney 
Avithout him, and had some misfor- 
tune 

He clapped his hand to his reeling 
head. The blood surging to his tem- 
ples seemed to blind him. 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


61 


Unworthy as she was (it was one of 
those incongruities, so singular in 
their essence, so common in their 
daily occurrence), this grave, gentle, 
noble-hearted man loved tenderly, de- 
votedly, with all the strength of his 
simple nature, the proud, passionate, 
frivolous girl who bore his name. 

And this woman whom he loved ! 
Oh, pitying angels ! this wife of his 
bosom, his precious, golden -haired 
darling, had called to him for aid 
hours ago, from the depths of some 
far-off, unknown peril, and no an- 
swer had been made to her wild ap- 
peal. 

Six — eight — ten hours ago — was it 
now too late f 

The cold sweat stood in great beads 
upon his brow ; but with a wordless 
prayer to God for help, for direction, 


02 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


in this supreme emergency, Dr. Ken- 
rick threw himself into a carriage at 
the hotel door, and was borne rapid- 
ly away to the rescue. 

***** 

‘ ^ There go the church bells, Rosie, 
asthore ! Isn’t it swate and beauti- 
ful they sound (glory be to God I), 
and everything so cold and dark and 
dismal about us ! It’s Heaven’s 
mercy it stopped snowin’ afore mid- 
night.” 

“ You may well say that same, 
Peter Finnegan. Have you the lan- 
tern, man ? Take care of that broken 
bit of wall by the outhouse, and hur- 
ry along, or it’s late we’ll be for the 
midnight Mass, I’m thinking.” 

‘Hlark !” cried the man, ‘^what’s 
that ? I hear a sound close by.” 

“Tut, tut!” returned his wife; 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


63 


“ don’t loitlier. Sure, it’s only tlie 
wind moaning through the little 
wood beyant.” 

“It’s no wind at all, at all, Rosie 
Finnegan,” disputed the lantern- 
bearer. “ It’s a groan it is, as I’m a 
livin’ man ! Hist ! there it goes 
agin. Faix, it’s the voice of a hu- 
man craythur, and no mistake, and 
somebody’s in distress in the out- 
house.” 

The worthy couple (who belonged 
to the force of hired help at the Lethe 
Insane Asylum, and were now mak- 
ing their way across its extensive 
grounds to midnight Mass at an ad- 
joining church) pushed open the door 
of the outhouse and stepped in. 

Peter Finnegan flashed his lan- 
tern around the interior of the old 
shed, used for the storage of gar- 


64 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


den tools, and not far from tlie pub- 
•lic road. 

He and liis wife gave vent to a si- 
multaneous cry of surprise and horror. 

Stripped of her outer garments, 
bound hand and foot to a rickety old 
bench, on which she lay at full length, 
they beheld a beautiful, fair- haired 
lady, who was moaning and shiver- 
iag most piteously in the piercing 
cold of the December night. 

Her linen and underwear, they saw 
at a glance, were of the finest quality. 
Her lips were blue, her delicate fea- 
tures pinched and drawn ; her face 
and hands as white and almost as 
cold as the snowdrifts which had 
blown in during the storm through 
the broken window of the shed, and 
lay, like tufts of ermine, upon her 
lovely hair, 


Tlie Fatal Diamonds. 


65 


“ God save us !” cried Peter, ‘‘it’s 
kilt tlie poor colleen is, entirely, with 
the black frost. And her as party 
and shapely itself as a wax doll. 
Mebbe she’s one of the craythurs 
from the house, yander. She’s give 
them the slip, and some villain of a 
tramp has robbed her of her clothes. 
Lend a hand, Rosie, dear.” 

And in less time than it takes to 
tell it the good fellow had whipped 
out his pocket-knife, cut the cords 
which bound the unhapi^y stranger, 
and, with the aid of his strong-armed 
wife, was bearing her across the 
snowy fields to the asylum. 

Poor Margery Kenrick ! Poor, 
wilful Margery Kenrick ! 

“ How hath the gold become dim ; 
how is the finest color changed !” 

Cold, senseless, stripped of all the 


66 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


vain ornaments so precious to her 
heart, indebted for her very life to a 
poor Irish couple, whose services she 
would have scorned in the heyday of 
her pride and passion, the haughty 
woman whom God had humbled was 
carried over the threshold of a mad- 
house, and welcomed, as a vagrant, 
to its walls. 

She was put to bed at once and re- 
storatives applied. Before an hour 
had elapsed there was no crazier creat- 
ure in that vast abode of crazy mis- 
ery than the hapless wife of Dr. Lewis 
Kenrick. 

Delirium had supervened upon the 
exposure and horrors of that awful 
night. 

The white cheeks glowed, the blue 
eyes were brilliant with fever, as 
their owner tossed about her couch, 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


67 


crying aloud ever the same strange 
words : 

‘‘ The stable of Bethlehem ! the 
stable of Bethlehem ! Oh, how dark 
it is ! how cold it is ! Help, help, 
Lewis ! they have robbed me of my 
diamonds and my furs ! They have 
left me alone in the cold, dark stable 
of Bethlehem !” 

If Arnold, the mulatto, could have 
stood that hour beside her bed of 
racking pain, and gazed upon the 
shattered wreck of the once proud 
and beautiful Margery Kenrick, even 
his desperate heart must have fore- 
gone any further satisfaction of his 
bitter revenge. 

But Arnold would cross her path 
no more. 

Far, far away, hours ahead of pur- 
suit and detection, making the best 


68 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


of their opportunities and their stolen 
treasures, the mulatto and his travel- 
ling companion (no other than his 
disguised wife Daphne) were afloat 
in a sailing-vessel from the nearest 

port, bound for foreign shores. 
***** 

Late in the afternoon of that event- 
ful day a tall, bearded man stole 
softly into the chamber where Mar- 
gery Kenrick lay, with the ice-flllets 
bound about her burning brow. 

The nurse and the superintendent 
stepped aside in mute sympathy into 
the outer corridor, and Dr. Kenrick 
bent alone over the suffering girl. 

As he listened to her pitiful rav- 
ings, her hot hand clasped in his, his 
broad chest heaved, and his eyes ran 
over with tender tears. 

He fell on his knees beside the bed, 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


G9 


and gave vent to liis long pent-nx3 
emotion in a prayer of mingled 
thanksgiving and anguish. 

Praise be to God ! the lost one was 
found ! But, alas, alas ! would the 
hungry grave even now yield up its 
threatened and trembling victim ? 

^^ * * * * 

Christmas Eve once more in the 
old, familiar sitting-room at Wylde- 
wood. 

The crucifix upon its oaken shelf, 
the pure Madonna smiling down from 
her marble pedestal, and the gay 
canary singing among the flowers in 
the sunny bow -window — it is all more 
like a scene in June than December. 

But beside the glowing grate stands 
the grandmother’ s high-backed chair. 

Yes, the grandmother., for in her 
old-fashioned chair sits the dear, old, 


70 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


brown-eyed lady in her muslin cap 
and dove-colored gown, and across 
her knee (as brown-eyed and cheerful 
as herself) lies her month-old grand- 
son, a superb, rosy roll of a baby, 
crowing on its back at a stray sun- 
beam, and smiling like a cherub, as 
the ray flashes full uj)on grandma’s 
glasses. 

Close at hand, in her low sewing- 
chair, sits the young mother. Floy, 
the pretty quadroon, has just dropped 
on one knee beside her, seeking di- 
rections as to the mass of delicate 
white embroidery flung across her 
arm ; and as Margery Kenrick lifts 
her head to answer, we see what a 
charming change has come over that 
fair, distinguished face. 

The proud blue eyes have grown 
soft and gentle. A tender meekness 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


71 


hovers about the curves of the once 
haughty mouth, and over the whole 
face is shed the grace of Christian 
motherhood, giving it an indefinable 
likeness to the face of the Mother of 
all mothers throned upon the wall. 

She w’ears no jewels, and her dress 
is a simple one of violet cashmere, 
for Margery Kenrick has profited well 
by the bitter lessons of the past. 

Purified and refined by suffering, 
she has learned, at last, to seek the 
things that are above ; and all her 
earthly joys are centred upon her 
duties to her husband and to her 
peaceful, happy household. 

Now, as she dismisses Floy and 
the crowing baby to the nursery, the 
portiere is lifted and the grateful 
husband and father enters. 

He carries in his hands a large 


72 


The Fatal Diamonds. 


morocco caskefc, and his brown eyes 
glow with tenderness as he lays it in 
Margery’s lap. 

‘‘ Our Christmas offering, dearest,” 
he softly says ; “ our blessed ex voto 
for past and present blessings !” 

And opening it, the sunlight blazes 
upon a magnificent golden chalice set 
with diamonds of the purest water. 

Brighter than those jewels, purer, 
and far more precious in the sight of 
God than any gems of earth or sea, 
the contrite tears begin to shine upon 
Margery Kenrick’s blushing cheeks. 

“ Nay, weep not, my darling,” says 
her husband fondly ; “ but rather re- 
joice and smile.” 

He draws her close to his side, and 
lays his hand in benediction upon 
her golden head : 

“ The past is buried, love, with all 


The Fatal Diamonds, 


73 


its bitterness and pain. The present 
is full of peace and radiant promise. 
And when, to-morrow, at our Christ- 
mas Mass of thanksgiving, the good 
priest raises aloft for the first time 
this jewel -studded chalice, what shall 
we say, my Margery, to the divine 
Babe of Bethlehem, for all His tender 
mercies V ’ 

‘ ‘ Gloria in excelsis Deo ! ’ ’ says the 
aged mother, her moist eyes raised 
in grateful reverence to heaven. 

And slipping to her knees at her 
husband’s feet, her head bowed meek- 
ly on her folded hands, Margery Ken- 
rick joyfully makes answer : 

Et in terra pax hominibus hones 
voluntatis ! ” 


Printed by Benziger Brothers, New York. 








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